Sunday, February 12, 2012

I got to admit its getting better. . .

Okay, that last entry wasn’t my best. It was dripping of cynicism and negativity. Well…if ya’ know me I guess that entry was just very much me. Just not as funny.

Today we started work on the baby room. Actually, my dad started work on the baby room. Jeremy, my mother and I just sorta’ went food shopping, Charlie shopping, and surfed the web. Now, I know how to work a paintbrush probably better than most people, but when it comes to my father, no one knows how to do it better than him. That’s his living, he likes to build and paint (Need work done: contact Santos Remodeling for all your house-y needs!).

Like a dufus I forgot to take pictures of the room BEFORE we started the paintjob. It was a dark, diarrhea/exorcist puke green. It wasn’t a bad green, that’s just the shade it was. Imagine if the girl in the exorcist had less bile in her puke to make it pea color and it was just a more concentrated green. Yeah, like that. It took my dad 2 or 3 coats of white paint based in a primer to cover it up before he could start the pretty light shade/hint of purple we chose. I’ll take pics of it tomorrow. It makes me happy and more into the fact that I’m having a little girl, a fact that makes me a bit weary.

Oh, my poor little girl. I worry so much. Not just for the fact that she doesn’t have an older brother to protect her, like I did. But for the fact that she has a mother like me. I’m the absolute worse girl ever. To me, everything girly is utterly boring. I hate weddings, could care less about nail polishes, I hate having hair let alone doing it, I die a little inside when I have to sit through romantic comedies. Everything that is geared toward women is something that I probably abhor. Except make up….and clothes. Love that.

I guess I’ll get more into that in another post. Right now I'm letting my mind spill out before I start having organized posts again. A week to ramble before I get right back into subjects and making sense. My Carrie Bradshaw like ranting posts (ps I  loved Sex and the City…I guess I have a little more estrogen than I thought).

Till then, Imma’ just let it out and get my mind clean of all the clutter and bullshit that is floating around. If you’ve been pregnant before, you can probably understand what I am talking about. Complete emotional crazy shit show that is happening in those brains!


I don’t wanna’ complain. Honestly, I do not. But as I sit here with swollen feet, sausage fingers, ginormous boobs and farts from hell, I must say “How does one ever find the energy to do anything, let alone end up falling in love with the creature that has been causing this much discomfort and who in 13 years will start to hate your guts?”

I’m 7 1/2 months pregnant and finally started to slow down. Of course I still run after buses, chase around shoplifters, climb up ladders, scale the shelves in back stock, gyrate and do body roll dance moves at work, but I just do it a little more slowly.

When I get home I find myself so damn tired from running around all day that once I sit down, I pretty much stay down. This causes a problem. That problem being; I have to let housework slide. Etsy work, slide. preparing the house and my life for the baby slide. Taking care of Charlie slide. So when I finally do get a day off, I spend it running around trying to get errands, budgeting, shopping, prepping the baby shower (I have to have my say in it or else I will be stuck with this totally girly affair that I will be miserable at) and doing a bazillion other things to catch up with what I had left behind during the week.

I’m fucking tired…and the baby hasn’t even got here yet.

It’s my own fault. I want to do too many things because all my life I’ve done too many things at once. I’m fast paced and get bored if I don’t have things going on. I’m good at doing a lot of things at once. Just not right now, and its freaking frustrating.

Jeremy helps, but of course its under careful instruction. No, he isn’t mentally incapable of understanding how I like the toilet scrubbed, how to feed Charlie or how I like my budget balanced…he’s a man. I am a woman. I understand. I’m patient.

So right now, my life consists of lots of checklists in order for me to prioritize all the things I need to do. It’s a very long check list. *sigh*

I guess I should be chronicling these moments in my life. I have a daily diary that I really suck at writing in every day. Hmm, I should probably write in it after I write this entry. I need to get better at giving a shit about these kinds of things.

I will. I will also be funnier. Right now, my gas pain is giving me a headache and I just spent 1 hour crying about my dog having diarrhea. I’m exhausted.


Oh yeah, Whitney Houston died.

I lost myself in this blog and in life. I’ve been so polite and I held my tongue on so many subjects. I’ve decided, I’m just going to let who I am just fly on this blog and not care who I offend. I’m not offensive, I’ve just been trying to spare the sensitive. I’m just New Jersey is all.

I don’t know where that random thought came from, my thoughts are a bit all over the place. I guess what I am trying to say is that I’m not going to hold back on who I am anymore. I apologize if I seem abrasive from now on, but I feel I have that great talent to say what other people are thinking and feel no shame in voicing that opinion.